I sat in the shadows of the bridge watching the cars zoom past as well. The dirt from there tires flying into my brindle coat. My own thick collar, the only proof of my previous life as a fighter, hung limply from my neck. I had tried to remove it many times but those humans decided I would look fierce with sharp metal spikes. I would chew and chew until my mouth would bleed and I was forced to stop. As another car whizzed by I noticed another dog sitting opposite of me and at first it was a bit of a surprise. He could of charged me at anytime and easily surprised me, perhaps resulting in my death. he had no clue of my . I tried to scent the air and see to what oath he lied but my mud-caked nose was overwhelmed with exhaust causing me to cough to hide my presence. I strained my amber eyes to see if I could recognize him and indeed I could. It was leader of Tooth. I never could understand why dogs feared him, to me he appeared to be a tiny ball of scars. I was a Blood dog and through and more than most I hated Tooth. I was this little dogs gang who had broken the truce and killed my mother. Someday he would pay, but today was not the day. I laughed to myself as he peered over the edge. How stupid could a dog get. I understand the love of thrill, for I live for it but that's no excuse for being a . I watched him jump back and I laughed aloud my hoarse tones filling the air. A car came whizzing him and I stood motionless. Hopefully it would kill him. Any Tooth member the death. If it did not hit him however my would be known though this didn't worry me. I rose to my feet and shook my brindle pelt releasing dust into the air. I watched the scene hungrily through my amber orbs and with muscles tensed. My overgrown claws dug into the wood the lined the paths. I probably looked crazy standing there watching but I didn't care. When you live on the streets it doesn't matter how you look, or talk. It's how you fight and I was a fighter.

I was at the edge of the road with excitement, almost leaping into traffic myself to get a better view of the tragedy that seemed to be unfolding. Then much o my disappointment the small leader danced in and out of traffic. In what seemed like eternity he had escaped any danger, by cars, and was now on the same side of the bridge as I. A bitter taste filled my mouth and my amber eyes flared in anger. He didn't deserve to live let alone be called a gang leader. To me he had small dog complex, something I found quite disgusting. He's to small to inflict true damage it seems yet to mentally make up for it he acts tough. I hoped someday he would talk himself into trouble he couldn't escape. He finally noticed he was not alone and I laughed aloud at his lack of knowing his surroundings. Some street dog he is, how has he survived so long. I rose to all fours flexing my thick muscles beneath my brindle coat. I didn't answer him, only stared coldly and strutted forward growling. He may have survived traffic, but that didn't mean he would live to see tomorrow.